What about my armpits?!

So I’m getting ready for work this morning. Or attempting to. About halfway through my shower, I realize I had thrown out my razor yesterday. (I use disposable razors. I know. Environment. Anyway.) So I climb my soaking wet ass out of the shower, crossing my soapy fingers that I don’t slip and break my neck. What? Would you want to explain that to the paramedic? Anyway. I digress. I open the cabinet under the sink and commence to rummaging around for a new razor. Much to my chagrin, I’m all out. How could I have overlooked this?! HOW?

I stood on the purple bathmat, shook my dripping fist to the heavens (or to my horribly tiled ceiling) and cried out, “What about my armpits?! HUH? WHAT ABOUT MY ARMPITS?!”

Grumbling a stream of expletives, most of which most assuredly included some iteration of “fuck” or “sonofabitch,” I climbed my angry ass back into the shower to finish.

Here’s the thing. My armpits aren’t that fucking bad. I mean, there’s a super faint just barely there stubble. But I’m paranoid about that shit. I always have been. I’m wearing a short-sleeved shirt today, and I’m hyper-conscious that I haven’t shaven my armpits today. Like, the fucking world is going to end if I raise my arm and someone sees the microstubble! Quelle horreur! I will be the talk of the water cooler. Just what I’ve always wanted.

This is a buncha bullshit!

Yeah. I began to wonder, as I applied deodorant to my freshly shaven armpits, where this fixation came from. Was there a starting point, from whence I adamantly believed that the key to good hygiene and social acceptance was an armpit as smooth as a baby’s ass? (Preferably one without diaper rash. Rashes are the worst.) And it hit me! I had my light bulb moment. The clouds parted, angels sang, baby unicorns frolicked and wept.

Jennifer. This is all Jennifer’s fault. I even remember her surname. But I’m not going to tell you. No! That wouldn’t be polite.

Jennifer was like this 8 foot tall third grader. Was it third grade? I don’t remember. I only remember the school, so it was definitely somewhere between second and fifth grades. She was poor, wore hand-me-downs and giant, too large for her face, pink spectacles. Worst of all, she had terrible hygiene. I’m talkin’ bad breath and B.O. I felt sorry for her then, because people made fun of her. On the regular. She was an okay girl, awkward, a bit too loud, but really just desperate to be liked. She was sweet. And kinda smart, too.

I remember one day she had forgotten her pencil. Or the lead had broken on hers. Something like that. No one near her wanted to lend her one. So I offered her one of mine. And it was then. My armpit fixation began right then and there in that elementary school classroom. Because as Jennifer leaned over and extended her arm over to me, all the armpit hair in the world spilled out from the short sleeve of her top and reached for me. I swear a burst of air from the AC set it to wriggling and waving in the breeze. It waved at me…

Of course, I realize now that she was too young to be shaving and had hit puberty before the rest of us. Or else she was older and repeating grades. I’m honestly not sure which. I also realize now, which – to my credit – I had also realized then, her hygiene problems were not her fault. But I’m also strangely thankful to her for the complex she gave me that day. I – and all of my coworkers – should be thankful to her for making me aware of good hygiene practices. (Not that there’s anything actually wrong with a woman having unshorn body hair. But that’s a topic for another day.)

For now, thank you Jennifer. We all thank you.

~

P.S. This is the third post I did, well including the weirdass ranty “about” one. Way back on September 8. (I know, it’s been like soooo long. Ohmygosh. *flips hair*) And I’m being a lazy bitch and using it for filler since my brain is numb from Too Much Work Drama. Anyway. I thought I’d use this one, because I clearly haven’t told enough of you about my armpits. You’re welcome.

I am the exact same way! Every day. Every damn day, even if I am not leaving my house. I cannot stand the possibility of hair there, and in my imagination the microstubble is like three feet long. I’ll go forever and a day between shaving my legs, but it kills me to go 24.5 hours without shaving my pits.

Yes! Ohmygoshyes! I need a freakin’ scythe to get through the hair on my legs right now. And it’s summertime! But my armpits?! I can feel it stabbing me! Even when it’s smooth, it stabs me. In the brain.

I swear I get a five o’clock shadow on my armpits. Yikes! It grows one one-millionth of a millimeter and I totally have to shave it off! One of these days I’ll be able to afford laser hair removal. Totally can’t wait!

Ahahahahaha! Dude. I like you more by the minute! The whole shaving thing is tough on me because daily shaving gives me rashes. BUT I KEEP DOING IT. I’m totally stealing your idea. Lasers, here I come! Only money. Damn…

I understand that one!! Due to ingrown hairs and cuts I no longer shave. All about the Veet and epilator. I once got so desperate that I shaved my armpits on a bus.. And used huggies wipes to wipe the hair away! It was bad that day though-I get to werewolf proportions, and it was like that AND I was going to an engagement party so it had to go!

May I borrow your comb?
You know. Just. For. The hair.
HAHA! I’m kidding. I totally shaved this morning.
Tomorrow’s a gamble. Probably not. Razor’s getting dull. And if there’s one thing I hate more than my own hairy armpits, it’s bleeding to death in the shower and then dying again, drowning in my own blood and getting tetanus from a rustyass razor.
Yeah.
About that comb.

ya fuck bs. idgi tbh, specially if no ones gunna see ur pits or legs or smth. im bout as exciteable as a lump of shit so my arms r never up. i only wear pants. u dnt wanna see my chicken legs in shorts. lmao. does it make u itchy.

Y’alls need to go visit a beach in France. Chill, it’s just hair!!! I am being completely hypocritical since I went from a full pelt in Egypt to completely shorn in Texas (and I mean everything). It’s hard work and razors are so expensive! When Teddy gets a job I am going for laser hair removal… 🙂

I hate shaving and avoid it at all costs (well, there is one small area I shave regularly for comfort purposes but let’s not get into that) until I get a wild hair (HAHA) and decide I need to be smooth from neck to foot, and I mean there are some times when I will shave my arms and the, like, three tiny blonde hairs on my big toe. But for the most part, I’m totally cool being a woolly mammoth. So, I’m sure at some point, I have absolutely been someone’s Jennifer.

I could easily rant about the irritations of body hair. I mean, why do I have to shave my THIGHS for godsakes? Who decided we needed hair there? Agreed on armpits, they are the worst. If I forget a day I’ll be feeling them prickle me all day long. This was hilarious!

It is sad. But once I remembered her last name, I looked her up on Facebook. And she has a family now, looks happy. I know looks can and often are deceiving. But she looks happy, and that makes me happy.

Probably already know, but shaving armpits may not actually be better for hygiene.
Deodorants are okay-ish, so long as they don’t stop you from sweating.
FUN FACTS AWAYYYYYYYYYYY!
Also, how dare you beat me to commenting on a day.
How dare you.

Of course it’s not healthier. It’s unfortunate that such behaviors and habits are ingrained at such an early age. To the point where it becomes expected and you’re considered (and even consider yourself) disgusting if you fail to adhere.

I hate wearing deodorant, because I know it’s bad shit. Bad. But I can’t stand it without it!

I see no strike-through, so it doesn’t count. And I’m a card-carrying dork, so don’t make me cut you!

Yes. A slowing. I want to get stoned, slow down time, and talk about esoteric shit, metaphysics, Plato’s allegory of the cave, then smoke some more and play video games for hours, giggling and cursing.

You’re right. I am evading. Partly because I’m gonna feel like a dick if I go “Hey, it’s only been a few days but what you think of the tracks”, partly because it’s been a few days, partly because I’d rather the feedback in private.

Btw, don’t listen to Staind; listen to Final (probably 1st track of Infinite Guitar 4).
Btw, you should drink some water.
Btw, I think I might just cone up later maybe.
Btw, fighting sleep is don’t.
Btw, I happen to enjoy Dying Core myself althoguh it is strictly a working title.
Btw, HALLO!

Two things: 1) not shaving my armpits for a day drives me apeshitbonkers. Not that I’m concerned someone will see, but because that shit’s uncomfortable. I’m shuddering just thinking about it. 2) Some women grow it long and dye it fun colors. Apparently, that’s a thing. And 3) (I know I said two, but I lied – See? I can lie, too. Suck it, Josh!) Can we stop for a moment to discuss the fact that your ceiling is tiled? Wait, what? Did I read that right? Having spent the summer remodeling my house, I am an officially an expert on bathroom decor, and I am officially offended that your ceiling is tiled. I would command you to remove the tile immediately were it not for your apparent plans to move. Really, that should be reason enough to move. I don’t know why I feel so passionately about this, but I do. It’s IMPORTANT. Or maybe I’ve been sampling the bourbon again. Either way, you can’t leave soon enough in my opinion.

Hahaha yes it IS super uncomfortable. And those fucking ceiling tiles drive me batshit. I hated them when I bought the place, and I hate them with an even more profound disgust now. Let the idiots who buy the place deal with it. (Please let some idiots but the place.)